NO WAY!

As I was getting lunches ready this morning, Clara calls me into the dining room, pointing to the floor. There, in the middle of my rug is A SNAKE! Now, mind you, it's a smallish snake. Maybe 10-12 inches long and about as big around as a fat crayola.

But.
It's.
A.
Snake.
In.
My.
House.

Clara is standing at one end of the dining room and I'm at the other, both of us peering towards this snake in the middle. It's not moving, but man! It sure does look like it might be alive. Kitten had been in the dining room just a moment before, so we decide that it's his fault, but I'm not convinced that it's dead. I ended up grabbing the clear plastic lid thing that we use in the microwave and tossing it on top of the snake. Meanwhile, Clara is assuring me that it's dead, but not moving any closer to it herself. Once the lid is on I start to breathe again and decide that it really is dead. Despite all of my tomboy years growing up at the creek, playing with frogs, salamanders, crayfish and, yes, snakes, I get the kitchen tongs to move it. I dropped it under the bush at the back door, intending to get a picture of it a little later. Of course, later it's gone. I'm blaming that on Kitten, too. That thing was not alive.